


Premonition

by brightephemera



Series: Knights of the Waking Alliance Chronicles [7]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, Mystics (Star Wars), Prophecy, Voss - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 21:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightephemera/pseuds/brightephemera
Summary: Akaavi receives a cryptic warning about a fellow Alliance supporter.





	Premonition

**Author's Note:**

> Timing: Shortly before the Emperor showdown.

What Akaavi lacked in having some idea where she was going, she made up for in determination of gait. She plunged from the plateau where the landing pads lay into the switchback path into the rear of the great square brown temple. Windows twinkled from the cliffs overlooking the scene. The Waking Alliance was developing into a small city. The scene looked serene but Akaavi had heard rumors of its defenses. It would not be caught unawares like Odessen.

Akaavi still wasn’t sure why she was here. The invitation had been hush-hush and named only her, so she assumed it was a job that Vette and Corso would balk at. Something in the phrasing was desperate.

The directions led her through a maze of hallways, all high and well lit from above. She finally found an archway that led from glassy-polished stone to a rugged cave. She must have come out the front of the temple, for Ephel’s greenish sunlight angled from above. The cave twisted once or twice and came out in a cavern big enough to fit three of Vette’s XS freighter _Nunnayor_ in. High, high above, sunlight played off golden dust.

There was a little pool on one side, fed by a stream that then flowed out of sight. There were little beehive-like huts, seemingly barely large enough for one, clustered near the far side of the grotto. There were training dummies, rows of them, with racks of practice blades beside. Akaavi wondered, not for the first time, whether she and her pike could defeat a Force trainee who didn’t have a lightsaber yet. Maybe she would ask to train when this errand was done.

People were standing or sitting around talking, but the Voss she had been sent to meet stood alone, hands palm to palm before her, eyes closed. She opened them to give Akaavi an unsettling speckled stare.

Akaavi got close and stopped. “I am Akaavi Spar. You summoned me.”

“I am Sana-Rae. Thank you for coming. I have words for you. You may not understand them. I truly do not.”

“We have never met. You surely don’t use mercenaries. How did you know me?”

“I saw your face in a vision. Your friend Vette supplied the rest.”

“I see.” Akaavi waited.

“The man you meet here, you must let go.”

As sentences went that sounded worthless. “Why?”

“Because if you know him he will die.” Sana-Rae’s gaze fluttered down, then up. “The interpreter Pora-Ged has confirmed this.”

“Did you see his face, too?”

“No.”

“Then what do I do with this?”

“Walk past. Look ahead. Shelter in flight. These are only guesses. My vision has ended.”

Akaavi waited for more. There wasn’t any. “I don’t believe in fortune telling,” she said.

“Ask my friends. Ask our commanders. My visions are true, and the interpreter is correct. I will notify you if I see the man’s face.”

“I have work to do,” grumbled Akaavi, and left.

Akaavi had been to Voss once, just long enough for Vette to get into legal trouble. They were a strange people, with slippery words and blind faiths. Akaavi had declined to take part in their mystical vision quest. The future was only as much as you could grasp with both hands, and she had done so all her life, and that was enough.

A Chiss rounded the corner. He was shorter and slighter than she was, with light blue skin and dark blue hair parted neatly to one side. He was wearing a fitted long-sleeve shirt and grey cargo pants.

He slowed, and his red eyes were probably directed toward her. She realized she had stopped, and recalled Sana-Rae’s first piece of advice, and sped up again.

“Good afternoon,” he said in a smooth Imperial voice. “Do you need directions anywhere?”

“No,” she blurted. “Thank you.”

He slowed further and tilted his head. “You’re in Vette’s crew, aren’t you? Security.”

She stopped, mentally cataloguing her weapons. “Who’s asking?”

“Wynston,” he said, and smiled crookedly. “I work here.”

“I’ve heard of you. High-ranking.” Vette mentioned him from time to time. He appeared in her commentary as the Outlander’s right hand, a voice of reason contrasted with the Outlander herself, sometimes. Akaavi recalled Sana-Rae’s second piece of advice, and stopped looking at him. “I need to go.”

“Good day, then.” His smile stayed on. They passed one another in the faintest brush of disturbed air. He lingered in her mind’s eye just a moment too long. Was this it? He was a stranger in her world, but he wasn’t a stranger who deserved to die.

Akaavi recalled Sana-Rae’s third piece of advice, and though she wasn’t sure she believed it, she flew.


End file.
